Devil of the Highlands (Devil of the Highlands #1)(20)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Cullen’s father, Liam, had then become laird and brought peace and prosperity to their people for ten years until the day he’d been found at the base of the cliffs that backed Donnachaidh. The hill that sloped away from the front gates of the outer wall ran along three sides of the castle, but at the very back it dropped away as if God had sliced away the gentle incline, leaving a very steep drop of rocky cliffs. This was where his father had taken the fall that had killed him. Cullen had been at Comyns the day it happened. Tralin and he had grown up friends and often visited each other, and that was where he’d been.

Cullen had returned home from the Comyns’ to find his father dead and rumors being whispered that he himself had been seen near the spot where he died… and that perhaps it wasn’t an accident.

It hadn’t been long before people recalled that he’d been on the hunt when his uncle was killed, too. They began to wonder if that had really been an accident at all. It was suggested that Cullen could have loosed the arrow that had killed his uncle. Perhaps he had sought the title of laird even back then, , they’d murmured.

Despite the rumors, as Liam Duncan’s son, Cullen had been named laird. Weighed down by his grief for a man who had been both a fair leader as well as a good father, and busy with his new position, Cullen had not addressed the rumors. He had tried to sort out whether his father’s death really was an accident, but there was no way to know. Liam’s horse had wandered back to the stables, a search had been started, and the laird had been found at the foot of the cliffs. There was nothing else to tell what had happened, and while the rumors had said someone had seen Cullen riding away from the spot, he had never been able to find out who the witness was supposed to be. No one seemed to know who it was, just that’ "it was said"’ someone saw him.

Knowing he hadn’t been there, and how rumors started and grew and twisted as they traveled, Cullen had decided there really was no witness and gave up his search for the truth to concentrate on the task of running Donnachaidh. And then he’d married little Maggie, a betrothal his father had arranged when they were but children. She had been a fine woman, cheerful and kind, and he’d grown an easy affection for her. They would have passed a life of peace and contentment without the highs and lows brought on by his passion for and worry over Evelinde, but two years after fulfilling that contract, she, too, had been found at the foot of the same cliffs.

That had been beyond any possible coincidence for Cullen. Unfortunately, it had been too much for a lot of people at Donnachaidh, too, but while he was looking to them for the culprit, they were all looking to him. No answers were found.

Cullen sighed and ran one hand through his hair in weary frustration. While everything seemed fine on the surface at Donnachaidh, there was actually a division among the people. There were those who believed none of the three deaths was an accident, but that they were murders and that Cullen was responsible for them all. Then there were those who thought the "accidents" might have been murder but were sure he was not the culprit, and, finally, there were those who were not sure either way. It made leading his people a tricky business at times, for while they followed his orders, with some it was slowly and with resentment. Being laird for the two years since Maggie’s death had been like being the captain of a ship on the brink of a mutiny.

Unable to prove his innocence, or even protest the unspoken accusations when they were mere rumor and whispers, Cullen had been forced to ignore them and hope they would fade in time. However, every time it appeared to be doing so, something or someone seemed to stir it up again. And then the marriage contract with Evelinde had been offered to him. Cullen needed a wife to bear his bairns, but he’d also hoped her presence would help people forget the past and let it lie. Instead, Evelinde was now having accidents, Cullen thought grimly, considering the events since meeting her. Her fall from the horse on the first meeting had definitely been an accident, as had her being given the wrong medicinal on their wedding day. He was even sure that her first adventure in Angus’s paddock had been an accident. However, he was almost certain today’s was not. Someone had opened the door and let Angus out while she was searching the paddock, and he had nearly lost a second wife.

Cullen frowned and glanced around the bailey, his gaze sliding over the people milling about. If the previous deaths and Evelinde’s present accidents had been perpetrated by someone, it would have to be one of his own people, for a stranger could not move freely through the gates without his men stopping them. One of the people he was looking at right now may have tried to kill his wife, he realized… and, perhaps, not for the first time. That thought came as he recalled the incident when he’d come upon Evelinde in the woods on the way back from Comyns.

Cullen was suddenly recalling her mention of an arrow in the tree she was climbing. He’d assumed that it was an old arrow, but something about her troubled look as she’d said she hadn’t noted it earlier was bothering him. And, he recalled, Evelinde had asked if he was the one who’d been following her and why hadn’t he let his presence be known.

His mouth tightened grimly as the two points combined in his mind with this accident and Hamish’s words regarding it to send fear creeping up his spine. He was beginning to suspect there was more to her comments on the arrow than he’d assumed at the time, and suddenly was very desirous of asking her about the incident.

Climbing back onto his mount’s back, Cullen turned him to the path and headed for the keep. He would talk to Evelinde. And hold her. And warn her to stay close to the keep until he was sure all was well. Cullen had been sad when little Maggie had died. He had become used to the woman for wife and gained affection for her over their two-year marriage. But he knew without a doubt that his mild grief at her death would be nothing next to how he would feel should he lose Evelinde. His new lady wife had managed to burrow under his skin with her soft laugh, constant chatter, and welcoming body.

Cullen liked his wife. He might even more than like her, though he wasn’t willing to explore that possibility at the moment. He just knew he wanted to keep this wife around.

Chapter Eleven

"There you are."

Evelinde let the keep doors close behind her and saw Mildrede seated in one of the chairs by the fire.

"Lady Elizabeth was looking for you a few moments ago," the woman announced, as Evelinde approached.

"Do you know what Aunt Biddy wanted?" she asked, noting that the maid had her green gown on her lap and was apparently mending a small tear in it. It was the dress she’d been wearing the day before. Evelinde must have caught it on a branch during her climb and caused a small tear.

Mildrede shook her head. "She did not say, but I imagine it has to do with meals for the week. Or perhaps she wishes to restock supplies since Cook will soon be back."

Evelinde nodded, then hesitated, briefly torn between seeing what the woman wanted and heading above stairs. In the end, she decided to replace the pin first. The broach had caused her enough difficulties, and with the way her luck was running of late, she feared getting distracted and losing it again.

"If Biddy comes looking again, tell her I have just taken something above stairs and will return directly to speak to her." Evelinde started to turn away then, but paused at a clucking sound from Mildrede.

"You have grass stains on your skirt," she pointed out with irritation. "I swear child, I do not know what has happened. You have ever been careful with your clothes ere this, but seem to be ruining another one each day since the day you married laird Cullen."

Frowning, Evelinde glanced down at her skirt, grimacing when she saw that while she had escaped Angus unscathed, her gown had not. Sighing, she shook her head with irritation, and muttered, "I shall change while I am up there."

"I shall help." Mildrede started to rise, but Evelinde waved her back down.

"I can manage on my own, Mildrede. Carry on with what you are doing."

The maid sank back in her seat with a nod, and Evelinde hurried to the stairs and up. Her first stop on reaching the room was Cullen’s chest. She replaced the broach where she’d found it with a little sigh, then closed the chest and stood to cross to her own, removing her gown as she went.

Pausing by her chest, Evelinde took a few moments to examine the gown. It was one of her favorites, and she thought Cullen must like it, too, for of all her gowns, this and her forest green one were the ones he’d chosen to pack when he’d taken her away from d’Aumesbery. Since the man spoke so little, that was the only way she could judge what he liked.

Fortunately, the grass stains were not too bad, and at least there were no rips or tears. A good soaking and a little hard scrubbing should remove the stains she thought with relief and rolled the gown up and set it aside to take below for cleaning. Evelinde then moved to her chest, opened it, and bent to rummage through its contents for another gown to wear.

She never heard the bedchamber door open, and jumped with surprise as arms slid around her from behind.

Evelinde didn’t need to look to see who it was. She recognized the hands that suddenly covered her br**sts as well as the way Cullen cupped and kneaded them through the cloth of her chemise.

"I came to ask ye something," Cullen rumbled by her ear.

"Oh?" Evelinde sighed, her eyes closing as she leaned back into him. She covered his hands with hers, squeezing encouragingly as he caressed her.

"Aye, but ye’ve managed to distract me."

She opened her eyes at that, a breathless laugh slipping through her lips. "I have done nothing."

"Ye were bending over the chest in naught but yer shift," Cullen explained.

"And that distracted you?" Evelinde asked with surprise, tipping her head back to peer at him.

"Oh, aye," Cullen growled, and claimed her lips even as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

"Wife?"

Evelinde opened her eyes but didn’t raise her head from her husband’s chest. He had exhausted her with his passion, and she was too spent to bother, so merely tilted her face up to glance at him. "Aye?"

"Tell me about the other day in the woods before I came upon ye."

Evelinde raised an eyebrow at the demand, then shrugged where she lay half on top of him. He was the one who had placed her there, and she had been content to remain. Now that he was talking to her, however, she felt self-conscious about her position and started to shift away to lie beside him, but his hand was suddenly there to stop her. Apparently, he liked her where she was. Relaxing back against him, Evelinde pursed her lips and shrugged.

"What do you wish to know? I got lost, climbed a tree to find the castle, then you came."

"Ye asked if I’d been following ye," he reminded her.

She wrinkled her nose. The events seemed so far away now. They had only been the day before, but so much had happened since then that they seemed a far-off memory, and Evelinde felt foolish about her fear in the woods that day.

"Wife," he growled insistently.

"I thought I heard someone," she admitted slowly. When his eyes sharpened on her, she quickly added, "But ’twas probably just a rabbit or vole."

Cullen was silent, his expression troubled. "And the arrow?"

Her eyebrows rose, but she shrugged." ‘Twas probably there from a long time ago, as you suggested."

"Ye did no seem sure of that at the time," he pointed out.

Evelinde glanced away and shrugged. " ‘Tis silly really." She paused and blew out an exasperated breath before explaining. "I was climbing the tree when I thought I heard a whiz thunk, and I—"

"A ‘whiz thunk’?"

Evelinde chuckled at his confused expression, but explained. "A whizzing sound as if something had gone past me, then a thunk as if it had hit the tree."

When Cullen’s eyebrows drew together on his forehead, she rushed on to say, "It was probably a branch or bird’s nest dropping past me and hitting the tree on its way down. I was shaking the branches a good bit with my climbing."

His expression did not clear.

Evelinde continued, "Anyway, I instinctively released one of the branches I held to look around and see what I had heard. The branch I stood on chose that moment to snap, and I grabbed for something to hold on to, and once I regained a safe purchase with my feet and peered at what I had grabbed, I saw that it was an arrow." She shrugged and gave an embarrassed smile. "I know ’tis foolish of me, but at the time I thought perhaps that had been the ‘whiz thunk’ I’d heard."

Noting how solemn and stern her husband’s face had become, Evelinde frowned. The man always looked serious, but this was different and was making her nervous. She decided a change of topic was in order and chose the first one to come to mind.

"Husband, do you not think torches should be set in the upper hall and lit during the day? It has no windows and is very dark."

Cullen shrugged, his voice distracted as he said, " ‘Tis the way it has always been. Ye will get used to it."

Evelinde narrowed her eyes with displeasure, but before she could speak he was suddenly shifting her off of him and sliding from the bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked, sitting up to watch as he began to don his clothes.

" ‘Tis the middle of the day. I’ve things to attend."

"But—" She glanced to the window, noting that the sun was hanging directly overhead. It was indeed midday. "What about our picnic in the clearing?"

Cullen hesitated, but then shook his head and continued to dress. " ‘Twill have to wait for another day. I have wasted enough time today."

"Wasted?" Evelinde squawked, then scrambled off the bed and hurried after him as he headed for the door. "But I wished to speak with you about some things."

Pausing at the door, Cullen turned back, his gaze sliding over her, but hardly seeming to see that she was standing before him completely nak*d. His voice was impatient as he asked, "What did ye wish to speak about?"

Evelinde hesitated, at a loss now that she was on the spot, but when he shrugged and turned to the door, she blurted, "About the torches in the hall, and getting men to help in the castle with the heavier tasks, and what my duties are?"